Me and my friend are writing a book. We have completed the rough draft and are half way through the second draft. This is the first chapter in the book which still has a bunch of things wrong with it... advice is welcome. Here it is:

Chapter One:

Scroll

Robin Scroll stared absentmindedly at the parchment before him trying to think of what to write next. He tapped his pen on the desk hundreds of times at the beat of the grandfather clock’s ticking as was his habit when thinking.

Suddenly the grandfather clock boomed twelve times, graciously informing him that it was tea-time.

Out of habit, Robin looked up through the huge, domed window in front of him to see if his best friend, Javaa, was there yet. As usual, she was late.

Sighing, Robin cast the old pen onto his polished desk, ruffled his messy white-blond hair, and started down the spiral staircase wondering if Javaa would be there by the time he stepped off of the last, speckles step.

After a couple minutes he stepped off of that step, entered the kitchen, and, adjusting his awkward glasses, looked around. To his surprise, Javaa was seated at the kitchen table, a steaming cup of tea held in her cupped hands. Javaa smirked at Robin and set the tea down on the table and, all to eagerly, retrieved a stopwatch from her pocket and clicked the stop button.

“You,” she said, “are approximately three minutes, two seconds late – give or take. Really Robin, I expected more from you.”

“You’re the one who’s usually half an hour late,” said Robin. “Besides, I was so absorbed in my writing –

“Cheesy writing…”

“That I didn’t notice the time,” finished Robin, ignoring Javaa’s snide comment.

“Mm-hmm, I’m sure you were,” said Javaa sarcastically. “a=Are we having pastries like you promised.”

“No – I changed my mind.”

“What? Why can’t we just have pastries? We always have cake.”

“No we don’t – besides I don’t remember promising pastries to Your Royal Highness.”

Javaa sniffed. “Maybe I should just go to the bakery to get some pastries for myself!”

“Maybe you should. I’d get to eat in peace for once.”

“Fine! I will!” Javaa got up from the table to go moving slower than usual.

Suddenly, Robin grinned. “He Hugo,” he called to the cook, “Miss Sliverstream does not want your cake so bring both pieces to me!”

Javaa stopped in her tracks.

“Well?” Robin asked, “weren’t you off to get some pastries or something?”

“I’ve changed my mind,” said Javaa menacingly giving Robin the “death glare”.

“Never mind Hugo,” called Robin grinning from ear to ear, “Miss Sliverstream has changed her mind!”

Hugo walked in and winked at Robin. “Straining at a gnat and swallowing a camel, are we?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Javaa asked irritably.

Robin, seeing a chance to nail his victory in even farther, smirked. “I believe,” he said, “that it means, at least in this case, that we’re nit-picking over tiny things and completely ignoring the better things we could be doing or arguing about. Am I right, Hugo?”

“That you are, young master,” said the chubby cook plopping the cake down in front of them, “that you are.”

Javaa scowled. “I knew that.”

“Of course you did,” said Robin patting her on the shoulder, “you always are. Right?”

Javaa put her hands up. “Okay, okay,” she growled, “you win.”

“As usual,” said Robin.

Javaa suddenly focused on her cake. “That’s weird,” she said.

“What is?” asked Robin.

“My cake is frozen.”

“No it’s not,” said Robin, “that isn’t possible unless…”

“…Unless I’m a wizard.”

Robin reached over and touched the cake. Sure enough, the cake was frozen and there was no doubt: Javaa was a wizard.

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Robin huddled over the piece of parchment he had abandoned earlier that day trying to think of what he had planned on writing before teatime but he was much too distracted by that days turn of events.

Javaa, a wizard? No way!

It had to be some sort of trick on Javaa’s part; she was always playing jokes on people.

Robin suddenly had an uncontrollable surge of jealousy and frustration. Why couldn’t he be a wizard? Why?

He jumped up and ripped the empty piece of parchment to bits and threw them on the floor. Suddenly he felt very foolish. Angry at himself, Robin hunched over and retrieved the pieces of parchment, threw them into his waste bin, and stalked off to bed.

In bed he began to feel angry and jealous again but as he grew more and more groggy he began to be more confused and disoriented than jealous or angry…

Suddenly a strange idea popped into his head and he scrambled out of bed and skid across the wooden floor to his desk. Quivering with anticipation, Robin pulled out a piece of parchment and put a big blotch of ink on it and turned around. Will the ink disappear like I want it to? he wondered, or am I not actually a wizard like I hope?

He was brought to reality when, with an undignified thunk, his candle toppled over and went out. In disappointment, jealousy coursing trough his veins, the dejected Robin skulked off to bed and fell into a troubled sleep.